Temporary Bliss
by Apocalyxtic98
Summary: Dean & Jo are determined to stay together, no matter what the obstacle, even death. So once a month, Jo gathers enough strength to become corporeal. For one night. One night, once a month. There's a catch. Each night leaves Dean emotionally and physically exhausted. He doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to go on. And, Sam has no idea.
1. Chapter 1

**Dean knew it was wrong, unnatural. But he couldn't help it. He just missed Jo so much. So, each month, they would meet. Each month, Jo would gather enough strength to spend one night with Dean. One night, once a month. They had one night to hold each other as much as they could; they had one night to live the life that Fate had cruelly stolen from them. They lived that one night like it was their last. Because, it very well could be.**

**One problem. Sam had no idea about their...relationship. And Dean had no intention of telling Sam. Secrets were deadly. And this one, Dean was going to guard with his life.**

Dean sighed in content, tucking a blonde lock of hair behind a sleeping Jo's ear. Last night was memorable. Last night was wonderful. Last night was bliss.

Even if it was only temporary. Dean could tell it wouldn't last much longer. Jo was already starting to fade. Soon, his love would disappear completely. Because Jo was a ghost. Dean's love, Dean's partner was a ghost. A very cute, hot ghost, but a ghost just the same.

So, last night was memorable, wonderful, blissful. But, last night was many other things, too. Last night was painful. Last night was full of angst and longing. Last night was heart-breaking.

Dean knew he should cut it off, quit it with Jo. But he couldn't. He was addicted to her love. Dean was addicted to Jo. It was wrong. So wrong. Dean knew that. Dean knew all these things, but he couldn't bring himself to change anything.

Because temporary bliss was better than no bliss at all, right?

…

Sam ran his hands through his long, brown hair. _Where the hell is Dean!_

Sam wasn't extremely anxious or worried, but he was at least a little bit alarmed. Every month, Dean would disappear inexplicably for one night, only to come back the next day, looking even more depressed and sullen than usual.

It was getting to a point where Sam was wondering how far off the reservation his brother was. It was getting to the point where Sam worried about his brother taking his own life.

So, whenever Dean _did_ disappear like this, Sam was always just a little more on edge than usual. Just a little. Okay, maybe a lot, but it was his brother that was the concern! The only family he had left.

Sam prepared himself for when his brother did get back. They were going to have one hell of a talk.

Sam was determined not to lose his brother.

...Again

**Please review. Reviews are totally appreciated! :D If I get...five reviews, I'll post the second chapter right away tomorrow! ;)**

**Not to blackmail you guys, or anything. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well... I didn't get 5 reviews... but I love you guys too much not to post this! :D (And I mean love in the casual, non awkward sense... Oh, jeez, what did I get myself into?)**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Even with the multiple requests and placements on my Christmas list, I still don't own it. But just because I don't own it, it doesn't mean I can't force the characters to do WHATEVER I WANT! HAHAHAHA! Anyways, enjoy!_  
**

Dean walked home in a somber mood. The motel he and Jo had stayed at overnight was just around the corner from the motel where he and Sam were staying. Dean knew he should cover his tracks better, but he didn't have the heart to walk any further. Right now, guilt and sorrow were so heavy on his mind that he felt like he would collapse, right onto the sidewalk.

Damn the passersby.

Last night kept worming its way to the front of Dean's mind. In one way, he loved that. It allowed him to enjoy the precious moments he had with Jo for longer than the few hours they lasted. They were moments, after all.

But in another way, he hated it. It was almost like even his own mind wanted to torture him, teasing him with images of what he could have for one night, but really couldn't have for life. It was temporary bliss. It was a new form of torture, one that was comparable to hell.

Dean took a deep breath as he turned the doorknob of Room 24. Sam would be furious...if Dean could ever get the door open. It was locked. Dean took another deep breath as he reached into his coat, groping around for his lock pick.

After several more seconds, the door clicked and swung open. Dean braced himself; he knew Sam would be pissed. The first time Dean had snuck away, Sam had been worried sick. The second, suspicious. The third, even more suspicious. And every time after that, Sam had become more and more irritated and annoyed with Dean's unexplainable desertions.

Dean's eyebrows shot skyward as he took in the dark, empty motel room. Maybe Sam was doing some sneaking around of his own. Dean took a step into the cheap, dirty room, starting to relax. For Dean Winchester, right now, relaxing meant falling apart.

Dean flicked the lights on, and almost had a heart attack at what he saw.

There was a chair in the center of the room, its back turned towards Dean couldn't see the occupant. But he had a pretty good idea.

Sure enough, Sasquatch Sam swiveled around in the chair like some Dateline episode. Dean groaned. Sam had some major bitch-facing going on. He was in for it this time.

"Dean, where the hell were you?" Sam stood up, advancing towards his brother in a highly accusatory fashion.

Dean didn't answer. Instead, he stalked towards the bed that he called his own and collapsed on to it. He had started to relax, started to fall apart, and there was no way he could rebuild the wall that held all his emotions back in time to mask them from Sam.

Dean gratefully flumped on to the bed—disgusting and scratchy as the sheets were—and buried his face in one of the smoky smelling pillows—one of the many advantages to staying in a room that had previously been designated for smokers.

Sam wouldn't let it go, though. "Dean, man, you can't just keep leaving like this!"

Dean groaned and buried his face further into the pillow, successfully hiding his tear-stained face from Sam so far. He didn't need Sam to see this. Sam was still his little brother; Dean was still supposed to be strong. Age didn't change anything.

"Dean!" Sam said, anger increasing his volume. "Stop acting like a little kid and tell me _where. the. hell. you've. been!_"

Dean ignored his brother.

"Fine," Sam snapped, walking towards the door. "If you can't even tell me where you're going these days, then I guess I can do whatever I want now, too." Sam snatched his coat from its place on one of the chairs and strode angrily towards the door.

Dean groaned again, raising his head just enough from the pillow for his voice to be heard relatively clearly. "Sammy, stop."

Sam didn't look at his brother, but he did stop. His arm was still extended towards the doorknob, ready to leave.

"Don't go," Dean managed to choke out.

Sam dropped his arm, turning to look at Dean, who had once again buried his face in the pillow once the tears had started again.

"Dean?" Sam's voice shook with concern. "Are you okay, Dean, _what_ is going on?" Sam rushed to Dean's side, having picked up on the shakiness his brother's voice developed when Dean was trying to hold back tears.

Sam was, honestly, scared. Dean rarely cried in front of him.

"Nothing's wrong."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean was such a bad liar when he had to lie to Sam. "Right. That's why you're crying."

Dean growled, rubbing his sleeve across his face. "I'm not crying," he pouted, much like a child.

"Fine," Sam said, barely restraining another eyeroll. "You're not crying. But you're most definitely upset." Sam ignored the feeble protests from Dean. "Dean," Sam said firmly. "Tell. Me. What's. Going. On."

Dean sighed, rolling over, away from Sam, towards the wall. "Jo," he whispered.

Sam stared at Dean. "What?" he asked, certain Dean was losing it.

"Jo," Dean repeated. "Saw her last night."

Sam walked to the other side of the bed to look at Dean's face. It wasn't a pretty sight. His cheeks were stained with dried tears, his eyes still puffy and red. His eyebrows were drawn together in pain, and his hazel eyes shone with grief. His entire complexion seemed paler, washed out.

Sam sighed. Dean was probably sick. A sick Dean was often a crazy, hallucinating Dean. Jo was probably one of the more sane hallucinations Dean had had.

Sam proceeded to get Dean comfortable, even microwaving a bowl of Campbell's chicken soup.

Sam could deal with a sick Dean. Sam could help a sick Dean. Everything was fine. Dean was just sick; Dean just had a cold.

That was what Sam told himself.

But something was nagging at the back of his mind. This wasn't the first time Dean had disappeared. It had been happening consistently, once a month for many months.

Surely Dean hadn't gotten sick once a month, like clockwork.

Sam tried to push his doubts down. Dean was just sick. He tried to reason with himself.

But he couldn't. Somewhere, Sam knew there was something bigger that Dean wasn't telling him. Something major was happening. And Sam was out of the loop. Surprisingly, that hurt more than he would expect.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to those who reviewed, or even just read this. If you're not too busy, I would really appreciate any review you give! :D Anyways, enjoy!**

**I don't own Sam, Dean, or Jo. That doesn't prevent me from manipulating them, though.**

Dean lay in bed, sulking. Sam had insisted he take it easy, that Dean was sick. Dean had argued, but Sam wouldn't hear it. Dean had argued even more, but had stopped when Sam's voice shook. Dean couldn't tell if it was from fear or what, but he had stopped pressing the issue.

So now, Dean was alone in the motel room. This motel was, by far, one of the worst they'd stayed in. There was no Magic Fingers. There was no cable TV. The stations that were available were all either boring news stations or some weird MTV show that involved a lot of kissing.

Dean had watched it at first, interested, but eventually it grew too painful. Kissing reminded him of Jo. And Jo was the one thing, besides a decent motel room, that he couldn't have. Not for another whole month.

Dean sighed, trying to hold back tears. He loved Jo, God, did he love her, but he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to do this. Dean couldn't let her go, but he couldn't bear to stay with her either. Jo wasn't supposed to stay, and Dean was most certainly not supposed to be this close to her. He knew he had to let go.

Dean walked slowly to the bathroom, guilt and sorrow heavy on his mind. He turned the faucet, splashing some of the cool water on his face. That helped, more than Dean had expected. For a moment, he was able to look at things rationally.

He had to let Jo go. He had to send her on her way. It was really the best thing for both of them, even if he recoiled in disgust at the idea. Jo didn't belong here. She should be in paradise, really. Jo should get to enjoy heaven, not be stuck as some half-alive spirit on this slowly turning world destined for destruction.

Dean looked up as the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. A frost was spreading across the mirror, obstructing Dean's view of himself. The one light in the small motel bathroom started to flicker, casting eerie shadows about the room.

Normally, this would be the time when Dean would grab the salt and the EMF detector.

But this situation was far from normal. Besides, Dean already knew who it was.

Sure enough, a very transparent Jo appeared in front of Dean.

Dean inhaled deeply, not looking at Jo. He chose to focus on the ceiling instead. "Jo," he started, "what are you doing here?"

Jo pouted. "Aren't you glad to see me? I thought this would be a treat."

Dean looked at Jo. "How? You're just reminding me of what isn't possible. You're only reminding me of the future I can _never_ have."

Jo took a soundless step toward Dean. "Yes, you can. That's why I'm here, isn't it? You're living that future right now."

Dean shook his head, avoiding Jo's eyes. "That's not what I'm talking about."

Jo stepped back, anger in her voice. "What? I'm not good enough for you now?"

"That's not what I mean!"

"Then what do you mean?"

Dean huffed in irritation.

"Tell me what you mean, Dean Winchester! Tell me right now, or I swear-"

Dean finally looked Jo in the eye. "You swear what? You'll kill me? Finally get in touch with your vengeful spirit side?"

Jo raised her eyebrows, rage painting her cheeks red. "God, you're such a smart-ass! Maybe I will kill you," she muttered. "These past few months haven't exactly been a delight."

Dean smiled bitterly. "You know, maybe that has something to do with the fact that you're _dead._"

Jo took a step toward Dean, fuming. "Why are we even doing this, then? Why am I even doing this? You know, it's not exactly easy becoming corporeal when you technically are supposed to be dead."

Dean raised one eyebrow. "Technically? Jo, you are dead. You're a friggin' ghost, damn it!"

Jo looked at Dean solemnly. "Damn who? Me?"

Dean reached for Jo, realizing exactly what he had just said. "Jo, I didn't-"

Jo took a step back, out of Dean's reach. "Yes, yes you did mean it."

Dean lowered his arm. "You're right, I did. Not in that sense, though. I love you, Jo."

"Now's not exactly the time for declarations of love, sweetheart."

Dean flinched at the bitterness and contempt that 'sweetheart' held. "Let me finish," he said hastily. Jo glared daggers at him, but stayed. Dean took a deep breath and continued. "Jo, I love you. But you're not meant to be here, you're supposed to be…you know, on the other side or whatever!

"Yeah, hell," Jo spat.

"No," Dean said gently, reaching to touch Jo's cheek. His arm slipped right through. "Heaven."

There was a long pause. "Are you saying, you want me to leave you alone?"

"No, Jo, I don't. But I know it's best. You're not supposed to be hear, damn what I want. This isn't the life you're supposed to live."

"I don't care what life I'm supposed to live! I'll do what I want, screw destiny and fate!" Jo took a step towards Dean again; they were so close, but yet so far away. They were within inches, but they could never truly be together. It was maddening. "I want to be with you," Jo said softly.

"You can't," Dean said, rather harshly, turning his back to Jo so his expression wouldn't give him away. He wanted Jo, he needed her. But she couldn't fulfill that need.

"Yes, I can," Jo persisted, stubborn as always.

Dean looked back towards Jo, slapping a cruel and distanced look on his face. "You're right, you can. But I don't want you to."

Jo was speechless. "Fine," she eventually spat. She turned around, starting to disappear. Then, she turned back to look at Dean, who was still staring at the iced over mirror. "You know, I was willing to try. When I first appeared, I was just going to say goodbye and leave. It was _your_ idea for me to stay. Rather selfish of you to just throw me away now, isn't it?" Jo was far from done. Anger was fueling her voice, giving her new words. "But I guess that's just what you do, isn't it, Dean Winchester? You use girls up, and then, when you're bored, you throw 'em away! You don't care for anybody but yourself!"

Dean was glad his back was to Jo. Otherwise, she would see the paths left by tears on his face. She would see his eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, tears brimming over. Jo would see that Dean really did want her, that he didn't want to end it. What Jo said was true. He was selfish. Just not in the way that Jo thought.

"Good bye, _Dean_," Jo said the last word like a curse.

Dean barely heard Jo's last words, she said them so softly. But when he did hear them, they chilled him to his core.

"_For now._"

**Again, reviews are not gone to waste! I love 'em!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Supernatural, most unfortunately. :'(**

Dean stands there, stands there staring at the spot where Jo disappeared.

_For now._ Jo's last words haunt Dean, more than anything else. He's dealt with spirits before, dealt with _many_ spirits before, but this is the first case that really _gets_ to him. A strong, overwhelming feeling of dread worms its way into Dean's stomach and stays there, slowly spreading through the rest of his body.

His legs weaken, and he starts to feel faint. Dean backs up against the wall, trying to find some support, some constant to keep him from losing it completely. The wall is cold, unyielding, but surprisingly unsupporting. Dean slips down, automatically tucking his head between his knees as he slips down into a crouch.

Memories flash before him, memories he hasn't focused on in a long time.

_Jo walks around the corner, the landlord close behind. _

_ "What the hell are you doing here?" Dean demands, surprise evident in his tone._

_ Jo's face stiffens before she puts on a cheery smile. "There you are, honey!" Jo walks toward Dean and slips her arm around her waist. Dean is surprised, but oddly pleased. "This is my boyfriend, Dean," Jo smiles at the landlord. "and his buddy, Sam."_

_ Dean's insides melt at the words 'boyfriend' and 'Dean' so close together. He knows it's pretend, but still..._

_ He's snapped out of his reverie by the landlord. "Good to meetcha. Quite a gal you've got there."_

_ Dean agrees, both mentally and verbally. Barely thinking, he smacks Jo's ass. "Oh yeah," he grins, "she's a pistol."_

_ Jo stiffens again, but forces the smile back on to her face as she looks up at Dean. Her posture, her smile is right, but her eyes are all wrong. They're too harsh, too closed off for this to be real. Dean resists the urge to sigh. _

_ "So, did you already check out the apartment?"_

_ Dean looks at Jo quizzically before she hastily adds, "The one for rent."_

_ "Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow."_

Something wet is falling onto Dean's face. _Bathroom must be leaking_, Dean thinks absently. Then, he realizes that he's the one leaking. Tears are falling silently, rolling down his cheek.

_Dean wakes up, his back sore from sleeping on the sofa. He's in an apartment building; Jo is sitting at a table, twirling her knife while she studies a variety of cluttered papers._

"_Morning, princess," Jo greets him._

"_Where's Sam?" Dean asks, although his mind is definitely not thinking about his brother right now._

"_Went to get coffee," Jo answers simply, intent on her papers._

_ Dean briefly thinks about how convenient his brother's absence is before he remembers. They're on a case. They don't have time for...that kind of pleasure._

Dean is vaguely aware of the bathroom door creaking as it opens, vaguely aware of a tall form standing in the doorway, vaguely aware that the tall form is saying something to him in a hushed, concerned voice.

Only vaguely aware.

Other memories flash, most of them recalled with a painful tenderness, all of them about Jo.

_Jo, furious at Dean for some unknown reason. Jo, shivering as she sits, waiting for the ghost of a homicidal serial killer to appear. Jo, gagged and tied to a support beam, Sam pointing a knife at her throat. Jo, leveling a shotgun and shooting at an invisible hellhound. _

_ Jo, blood and life bleeding out of her as she lies on the floor of the hardware store. Jo, shuddering as Dean kisses her for what he thinks will be the last time. Jo, laying in the soft, warm bed next to Dean, caressing his face and whispering declarations of unrequited love._

_ Jo, anger obvious on her pale face as she stares at Dean with utter hate, even disgust. Her face twists with rage as she accuses Dean of using her._

"Dean!" Jo calls his name. Dean flinches, expecting her to attack him. "Dean!" she calls again. There's no anger, no bitterness in her voice.

"Jo," Dean mumbles. "Jo."

"Dean." Dean recognizes his own name being called again. He also recognizes it's actually not Jo's voice.

Dean opens his eyes. He sees a figure above him, blurred by the tears in his eyes. It's Sam.

Dean groans, closing his eyes again. _Shit_, he thinks. The whole reason he allowed himself to melt down was because Sam _wasn't_ there. Dean realizes his luck really always is bad.

"Go away, Sam," Dean mutters.

"God, Dean," Sam says, his jaw slack, "what happened?"

"Nothing. Go away, Sammy."

"Yeeeaaah, I don't think so, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean whines. "Just go away."

"What kind of brother would I be if I did that?" Sam asks, pulling Dean to his feet.

"A good one," Dean mutters, a wave of black obstructing his vision as he stands for the first time in hours.

Sam rolls his eyes as he leads Dean to his bed. "Sure, Dean."

Dean raises his eyebrows as if to say, _It's true._ He collapses on the bed, gratefully stuffing a pillow under his head. Dean knows it's only a matter of time before Sam starts asking questions.

But Sam doesn't. Instead, he pulls a beer and a bacon cheeseburger, complete with extra onions, out of a brown paper bag and hands them wordlessly to Dean.

Dean raises his eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn't object. As he hungrily starts on the burger, he realizes he hasn't eaten in a while. Dean starts to play back the week in his mind, trying to find his last meal, but he can't. It's really been that long.

Guess arguing with your undead, now ex-girlfriend really takes it out of you.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Jo, Sam, or Dean, or the Impala. I don't own Supernatural...**

"I'm going out to get some stuff, 'kay, Dean?" Sam asks as he reaches for the doorknob.

"No!" Dean exclaims from his spot on the bed, suddenly sitting up. "No, Sammy, don't leave!"

Sam sighs. "Why not, Dean? I'm only going to be gone for a few minutes."

The panic in Dean's eyes is heart-breaking. Sam doesn't think he's ever seen his brother like this before. "No!" Dean repeats. "You can't leave."

"Fine," Sam walks back to the table, easing himself into one of the chairs. "But at least tell me why I can't leave."

Dean's eyes narrow, and he lies back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Dean, c'mon."

"No."

Sam sighs again. Looks like blackmail is the only option. "If you don't tell me why I can't leave," Sam threatens, standing up, "I'm going to go."

Dean groans. "You're such a pain in the ass."

Sam smiles, if only a little bit. That's the most Dean-ish thing Dean has said all day. "I know. That's my job, remember?" Sam waits for Dean to explain his sudden clingy-ness, but there's only silence. Sam takes another step towards the door, ignoring Dean's panicked squeak. "I'm leeaaaving!"

"Fine!" Dean says quickly. He takes a deep breath. "You can't leave," he starts. Sam waits for him to finish. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi…forty two Mississippi…_Dean still doesn't finish.

Sam takes another deliberate step towards the door.

"WAIT!" Dean practically screams. "You can't leave, otherwise she'll come," he blurts out ridiculously fast.

Sam pauses. _She?_ "Who's she?" he asks cautiously.

Dean looks up at the ceiling. "Nobody."

"Jeez, Dean, you suck at lying recently."

Dean resists the sudden childish urge to stick his tongue out at Sam. "Just…somebody."

"Riiiight. Just somebody who scares the hell out of you. Just somebody who terrifies you so much that I can't even leave the hotel room for two minutes!"

"Yup, nobody."

Sam rolls his eyes. He's put up with Dean's crap, but this is too much.

"Fine, I'm leaving." When Dean starts to protest vehemently, Sam cuts him off. "So you can either stay here, or you can come with me."

"But-but-but," Dean stutters like a little kid.

"No buts," Sam says, feeling way too much like a mom dealing with a stubborn child.

"Fine," Dean sighs, slowly standing up from the bed.

Sam wordlessly hands Dean his coat as they walk out the front door.

"But you're driving," Dean says handing the keys to the Impala to Sam.

Sam stops dead in his tracks, staring at Dean. "What!"

Dean looks at Sam with panicked eyes. "You drive."

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with Dean?" Sam asks.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Very funny, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam mutters as he climbs in the driver's seat of the Impala.

**Reviews are always appreciated. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Supernatural. *softly cries* Happy?**

"No!" Dean shouted, backing up. "No way!"

"What?" an exasperated Sam asked.

"There is no freakin' way I'm eating..._salad_." Dean uttered the last word in utter disgust.

"Dean, c'mon. It's like you're allergic to anything remotely healthy," Sam complained, leaving the salads in the shopping basket.

"Maybe I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're-nevermind!" Sam finally gave up. Dean was stubborn enough to bicker until Judgement Day. "Fine, we'll stop at some crap fast-food place on the way back to the motel. Or the gas station," Sam muttered.

Dean grinned.

"You're such a little kid sometimes, Dean. So selfish," Sam shook his head.

It was amazing how fast the grin fell off Dean's face. "I know," he said quietly. "I _am_ selfish, aren't I?" Dean started muttering things to himself, things Sam couldn't understand, but knew were extremely bad.

"Dean?" Sam said, grabbing his brother's wrist. "I was kidding. God, you really are..." Sam trailed off, unable to find a word comparable to Dean's current situation. Miserable? Depressed? Screwed-up? Pathetic? Broken? Lost? Nothing quite embodied the depth of Dean's state.

"Weak? Selfish?" Dean asked quietly. "Pathetic? Disgusting? Worthless? Pitiful?"

Sam didn't answer. Instead, he dropped the groceries and walked out the grocery store, back to the Impala. Sam opened the driver's seat and got in, not surprised at all when Dean followed suit, easing himself into the passenger seat.

The drive back to the motel was silent.

Once inside the room, however, Sam was everything but silent. "God, this is, this is...ridiculous! You're obviously broken, something's wrong with you, something's going on that you aren't telling me about! I was prepared to let it go for a while, let it blow over. But, Dean, it's not getting better. It's getting worse! I've asked you before, Dean. But now, now I'm demanding it. This is an order: Tell me what the hell is going on."

Dean took a deep breath, and told Sam everything.

**Thanks to the people who left reviews; it really means a lot. :D**

**To the people who haven't...why? why? what did I do? :'( (Just kidding! :P)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I think you guys will like this chapter. ;)**

**"Yes, of course I own Supernatural!" *Polygraph goes nuts* "Stupid lie detector..." *sighs* "No, I don't own Supernatural.**

At first, Sam was stunned into silence. Eventually, though, the stun wore off and the silence went away with it.

"Dean, this is really terrible," Sam breathed.

Dean's only response was a nod.

"I never imagined this, I mean, I never imagined it would get this bad!"

"I know," Dean mumbled. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam stood up from the bed, walking over to sit down next to Dean. Sam put an arm around his brother's shoulder. "It's not your fault," he said, trying to be as comforting as possible.

Dean looked up at Sam, surprise evident on his still grieved face. "What do you mean it's not my fault? It's all my fault!"

"No," Sam said, "it's not, Dean. You couldn't control something like this. But it's going to be okay now."

"What?" Dean said, standing up from the bed and shrugging off Sam's arm. "What are you talking about, Sam? It's _all _my fault! If I hadn't encouraged Jo, if I hadn't told her to stay, none of this would have happened! She would have been where she was supposed to be, up...you know," Dean stumbled, "up there."

Sam shook his head slowly. "Dean, listen to me. It's not your fault Jo's still here because Jo _isn't_ here."

Dean's jaw dropped open, and he stood, completely still, staring at Sam. Finally, he spoke. "What? Sam, were you listening to anything I just said? I told you everything! I came clean! Hell, I came cleaner than Clorox bleach!"

Sam stood up, stepping towards his brother. "I know, Dean, and that's great. It's a step forward. But it's not finished. It's going to be okay. I'm going to get you help."

_What the..._ Dean thought, unable to finish. Hell wasn't strong enough. Neither were any of the other words he was able to use. Sam thought he was insane! Sam thought it was all in his head!

Suddenly, Dean had doubts. What if it was all just in his head? What if he really was insane? Did Jo really come back as a ghost? Or was he just imagining it? Was his mind just subconsciously trying to console himself?

Dean didn't really know. But, he had a gut feeling. And those were normally right. Normally.

Sam had picked his cell phone and was now perusing through the phone book, apparently trying to find 'help' for Dean.

"Sam! What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded, walking over to Sam to pull the damn phone out of his hand.

"Dean, calm down," Sam said placatingly, almost patronizingly. "I'm just calling someone who can help."

Dean rolled his eyes, getting kind of pissed with Sam. Sure, he was just trying to help, but Dean didn't need that kind of help. "Sam, I'm not going to a shrink that you found in the damn yellow pages!" Dean reached for the phone, but Sam pulled it out of his reach, standing up and holding it as high as his arm would go.

Dean stared up at the phone clutched in Sam's hand, suddenly feeling very short. It was a feeling he did not enjoy. "Sam, put the friggin' phone down!"

"No," Sam said stubbornly, standing on his tiptoes and holding the phone even higher.

"Put it down, Sam," Dean said, glaring at his brother.

"No," Sam repeated, sticking his lower lip out in a pout.

Dean glared at Sam some more, but it wasn't helping. Dean sighed, reluctant at what he was about to do. It was so...childish. Despite knowing better, Dean jumped, reaching for the phone. Sam lifted his arm higher, pulling it just out of Dean's reach.

Dean jumped again, punctuating each jump with a "Give it back, Sam!" Or a "Sam, put the damn phone down!"

Each time Sam pulled the phone just out of Dean's reach, almost teasingly. "No," Sam would say, or "You need help, Dean!"

Finally, Dean growled, bowling into Sam, sending them both onto the bed. "GIVE ME THE DAMN PHONE!" Dean yelled, trying to wrestle it out of Sam's hand.

Sam wouldn't let it go, though. They squirmed on the bed, both of them fighting for the phone, neither one really winning. "Dean, stop!" Sam whined.

"No way!" Dean snarled in return. "I'm not seeing a friggin' shrink, Sam!"

"Why not?" Sam wailed.

"BECAUSE I'M NOT CRAZY!" Dean yelled in a way that didn't really help his case.

"You need help, Dean!" Sam said, pulling out the puppy-dog face. "Let me help you!"

"God, Sam," Dean rolled his eyes. "The puppy dog look, really? That one stopped working in...let's see. FOURTH GRADE!" Dean lunged for the cellphone, finally securing his hands on it, but Sam wouldn't let go.

The two Winchesters struggled, the phone staying mostly in Sam's possession, with the occasional, "Get off, me!" or "Let me help, you Dean!" or even, "If you don't give me the phone right now, Sam, I'm going to kill you!"

There was a knock on the door, which neither brother heard, and the door opened. A young, blonde maid appeared, pushing her cart of various cleaning supplies and toiletries. When she spotted Sam and Dean on the bed, her eyes went wider than humanly possible, and her cheeks flared red. "I'm...sorry," she managed to squeak.

Sam was the first to spot the maid. "Oh, no! It's not what you think!" he said hastily, struggling to sit up and push Dean off him.

Dean stopped, confused at Sam's surrender, and turned around, finally spotting the very embarrassed maid. He looked at Sam, winked, and then looked back at the maid with a grin on his face.

"Oh, yes, it is," he said, his grin widening. Dean turned back towards Sam. "Don't be embarrassed, _honey_," he said, leaning closer to Sam. "I mean, you just came out of the closet, remember!"

The maid rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Dean snatched the phone out of Sam's hand and leaped onto his own bed. Sam stared at Dean with wide, shocked eyes.

"Why did you do that, Dean?" Sam whined.

"Because I knew it would annoy you," Dean replied smugly.

"It did more than annoy me," Sam muttered, "it scarred me for life!"

"Oh, come on," Dean teased, playing with Sam's phone, "you secretly enjoyed that."

Sam's face was so comically shocked that Dean burst into hysterics. "Oh, Sammy," Dean gasped between outbursts of laughter, "you are. Way too much. Fun to play. With!"

Sam pouted.

"Bitch," Dean muttered.

Suddenly, Sam leaped at Dean, trying to wrestle the phone out of his hand. "JERK!" he yelled, hands scrabbling, trying to wrench the phone away from Dean.

Dean managed to jump off, or rather, fall off, the bed. He staggered, trying to regain his balance, but fell into the wall. Sam barked out a laugh, trying to follow his brother. Sam was two feet away when Dean dropped the phone on the floor and stepped on it, twisting his shoe to grind it into itty-bitty little pieces.

"Try calling the phone-book shrink now," he declared, face triumphant.

**Review, please! Do ya guys want a little more COMEDY, or do you want some more ANGST!**


	8. Chapter 8

_**No, I do not own Supernatural...or Dr. Sexy, MD.**  
_

_"Stay tuned! The Dr. Sexy MD marathon continues...after the break."_

"Deeaaan," Sam groaned, shoving another pillow on top of his head, "turn it off." Sam shivered. _Jeez, why can't you just shut the window, Dean?_

"No," Dean said with surprising intensity, "it's the Dr. Sexy MD marathon! Sammy, do you know how long I've been waiting for this? The next episode is with Dr. Piccolo! Her-"

"Wait," Sam interrupted Dean, slowly removing the piles of pillows off his head, "is that the girl that kept slapping me?"

Dean laughed. "Yeah, it is! Ha, that was hilarious."

Sam buried his face in the pillows again. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Real hilarious." Sam closed his eyes, trying to get some sleep.

"_But, doctor! This procedure was banned by the CDC and the DHS!"_

_ "Ellen! Do you want to save this man, or not?"_

_ "Yes...but..."_

"DEAN! TURN THE DAMN TV OFF, AND CLOSE THE FRIGGIN' WINDOW!"

Dean looked over at Sam with an amused expression, but otherwise ignored his brother. Sam let out a long breath, trying to keep his temper, but it was impossible. "Dean," Sam started again, sitting up to glare at his brother. "Turn the TV off right now, or I swear..." Sam trailed off. Dean wasn't even looking at him. Sam opened his mouth to holler again, but Dean wasn't looking at the TV, either.

"Dean?" Sam asked hesitantly. Dean was staring at a point near the end of his bed, his mouth open in shock and horror. A light flickered and burnt out with a loud snap, making both Dean and Sam jump.

Sam tried to stand up from the bed, his legs tangled in multiple sheets and blankets. He fell to the floor, barely avoiding a face-to-floor collision, throwing up his arms at the last minute.

Sam scrambled towards his brother, finally losing the sheets. "Dean?" he asked, shaking his brother. "Dean!"

Dean's head snapped toward Sam, his face utterly panicked. "Sam," he breathed. "She's here, she's going to kill me, SAM!"

"Dean, calm down!" Sam said. "Who's here? What's going on?"

"Salt," Dean choked, backing up. "Sammy, get the salt!"

Sam didn't protest, grabbing the salt and rushing back to Dean. "What do I do with it, Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam with a _My god, you're an idiot_ expression. "Use it, moron! Throw it at her! Send her away!"

"Send who away, Dean! There's nobody there!"

"Yes, there is! Sam, oh, god, Sam, she's right there!"

Sam followed Dean's gaze. He was staring at thin air, a foot in front of him. Sam was about to ask Dean what the heck he was talking about when Dean started choking, sinking to his knees.

"DEAN!" Sam dropped to his knees, shaking his brother, who was slowly turning blue.

"Sam," Dean gasped, "Salt..."

Sam opened the tin of salt with fumbling fingers, not sure what to do with it. He decided on just throwing it in the air randomly, hoping it hit whatever was choking Dean. Sam poured some into his hand, flinging it up in the air.

"No," Dean croaked, his hands in front of him like he was pushing at some invisible force. "Right on..." Dean's face turned an even deeper shade of purple. He gasped, much-needed air rushing into his lungs. "Right on top of me!"

Sam desperately started pouring salt on top of Dean.

All the lights in the motel room lit up, unnaturally bright. Sam flinched, bringing a hand up to his face. Dean started coughing, rolling over on his back. Sam was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when his breath caught in his throat.

She was there. Sam saw her. She was pale as death, and her face was shut off, glaring angrily at Dean. "Jo!" Sam gasped.

Jo's gaze traveled slowly from Dean to Sam. "Sam," she smiled. Sam took a step back at Jo's smile. It was downright terrifying. "I didn't appreciate that salt. It kind of hurt." Jo pouted. "Do you _want _to hurt me, Sam? Do you want to break me, like your brother did?"

Sam shook his head hastily. "You're-you're-you're" he stammered, staring wide-eyed at Jo.

"Dead?" Jo finished for Sam. "Unfortunately, yes." Jo shook her head, as if reprimanding Sam. "But, Sammy, you should know better than anyone. Dead things don't stay dead."

Sam gulped. "Why..why were you trying to hurt Dean?"

Jo sneered. "Because he hurt me! He threw me away, like every other girl he's used!" Jo's voice became dangerously calm. "And I couldn't just let him get away with that. _Somebody _has to teach him a lesson."

"Well," Sam said, wrapping his fingers around the container of salt, "it's not going to be you."

Jo stared at him in confusion before realizing, too late, what he was about to do. Sam slashed the container through the air, salt cutting through Jo's form.

Sam knelt down next to Dean's shuddering form, helping him up with a groan. "Dean, I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry."

"So, you're not going to call a shrink," he coughed, leaning heavily on Sam.

"No," Sam laughed, leading Dean out the door. "Definitely not. C'mon, Dean," he said, glancing behind him, "we got to get out of here before Jo comes back."

Dean coughed again, and Sam staggered under his brother's weight.

…

Sam glanced nervously at Dean, who was sleeping in the passenger's seat.

"Dean," Sam whispered, knowing Dean was asleep and couldn't hear him. "I'm sorry. I should've believed you, but it was just too..." Sam trailed off. "I wanted to, that was the problem. I wanted to believe you, I wanted to believe that Jo was back. But then, you acted like that was a bad thing. You acted like Jo wanted to hurt us. And then...then, I didn't want to believe it. No matter what, I didn't want to believe that she would hurt us, that she would hurt you." Sam took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, man."

Sam stared desolately ahead at the road, blinking back tears.

Dean opened one eye, staring at Sam for a bit. _I'm sorry, too, Sam,_ he thought. _This is all my fault._

_ I'm going to fix it. Don't worry, Sammy. I'll fix this._


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Supernatural. I, most unfortunately, am not receiving any monetary compensation for the wonderful literary works I have been producing. (What? They're not that wonderful? ... *sobbing* Does everybody have to crush my dreams?)**

Sam looked back over his shoulder, one hand outstretched and grasping the cool metal of the doorknob. "You sure you'll be okay?" he asked Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, Sam, I'll be fine."

Sam took his hand off the doorknob. "What if you-know-who comes back?" There was no need to say her name. Both Winchesters knew exactly who Sam was talking about.

Dean rolled his eyes again. "Sam, you can say her name. She's not Voldemort; we don't need to keep referring to her as you-know-who."

Sam raised his eyebrows, truly shocked. "You read Harry Potter?"

Dean shook his head. "Na." Sam opened his mouth again before Dean cut him off. "Saw the movies, though."

Sam shook his head, a ghost of a smile creeping across his face. "Seriously, though," he said, "what if you-...er, Jo, comes back?"

Dean smiled grimly. "That's why I'm sitting in the middle of this salt, right?" He made a shoo-ing motion at Sam. "Go already. I'll be fine."

Sam turned towards the door and reluctantly opened it. "Alright," he sighed, stepping outside. "Call me if anything seems weird!"

"I know," Dean groaned, already turning towards the TV and flipping through channels.

"Anything," Sam persisted. "Even if you just get a feeling, like something's up-"

"Call you," Dean interrupted. "I get it, Sam. I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"That's not how you acted last time she came," Sam muttered, but walked outside, shutting the door behind him. Sam knew that Dean was safe, that he was protected by the salt, but he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that he _shouldn't_ be leaving, that he _should_ be staying by Dean's side.

Sam shook his head, successfully shaking his hair out of his face. He was not so successful at shaking the feeling away, though. Nonetheless, he walked away from the motel room, his fingers feeling in his pocket for the list of supplies.

_I'll make it quick_, he thought. _Ten minutes is quick enough. What could happen in ten minutes? _Sam was forced to admit that a lot could happen in ten minutes.

…

Dean sighed as the TV went static, white-noise interrupting the anime he had been watching. He clicked the TV off, dropping the remote.

"You can come out now," he sighed. "There's no point in hiding."

Dean closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples. When he opened them, Jo was standing in front of him, a ghostly wind gently blowing through her blonde hair. As she flipped it out of her face, her form flickered.

"Hey, Dean," Jo grinned.

"Jo," Dean nodded.

Jo's smile disappeared, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "So formal?"

Dean didn't respond to the tease.

Jo sighed, leaning on the small bedside table. "You know," she said, her tone mischievous, "there was a time when we were lovers."

"Yes, there was." There was no emotion in Dean's voice, just the flat tone of regret.

Jo picked up on that instantly. "Is that regret I hear in your voice? I wonder...regret that it didn't work out between us? Or regret because you're about to die?"

Dean stared dully at Jo, not answering.

Jo pouted again, sauntering over to Dean. "This isn't going to be any fun if you just stay silent the whole time. Of course, that was your style, wasn't it? All action. Direct, to the point." She came as close as she could to Dean, the tips of her toes almost touching the line of salt. "Shall we get to the point, Dean?"

Dean just raised an eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes," Jo said quickly. "Fine, I'll just say it." She sighed. "You're probably expecting me to just kill you now, huh?"

Dean looked at her strangely and nodded.

"I'm not," Jo said bluntly.

Dean's face showed nothing but utter surprise. "What?" he choked.

"I'm not going to kill you," Jo repeated slowly.

Dean swallowed, surprise still the dominant emotion on his face. "Then why are you here?" he rasped.

Jo ignored his question, pacing slowly around the circle. "I'm not going to kill you," she repeated. "I realized something, in that brief time span between the last time I showed up and now." She stopped pacing, standing directly in front of Dean. Jo's cinnamon eyes bored into Dean's hazel eyes. "Nothing's perfect. Nobody's perfect. Everybody has arguments." She shrugged. "Of course, we're not exactly normal, but, everybody has arguments. Even the most devoted couples will get into fights now and then. I was stupid to think that we wouldn't. It was petty and self-centered of me to want to kill you after one argument."

Dean snorted. "Ya think?"

Jo smiled a bit. "Of course, you did say a few things that reach far beyond the boundaries of a _normal_ argument, but as I previously stated, we aren't exactly a _normal_ couple. As such, I'm going to forgive you. If you apologize, of course." She looked down at Dean nobly.

"You?" Dean asked incredulously. "Forgive me?"

Jo's smile widened. "Yes, I am being incredibly generous, aren't I?" She leaned in close to Dean. "One of us has to be, sweetheart," she breathed.

"You?" Dean repeated. "Forgive me? Me? Apologize?"

Jo rolled he eyes. "I believe that's what I said."

Dean stood up from the chair, going as close to Jo as he could without leaving the circle of salt. "Don't you think it should be the other way around?"

"What?"

"I don't have anything to be sorry about! You should be the one apologizing, you tried to kill me!"

Jo waved a hand dismissively. "That was the past. Besides, I was only trying to kill you because you started it. You were the one who got me all vengeful spirit-y in the first place!"

"Yeah, but," Dean sputtered. "You tried to kill me!"

"I just said, I only did that because you provoked me!"

"So what?" Dean asked. "Don't anger Jo, because she'll kill you?"

Jo's pale face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. "No!" she protested. "That's not it at all! That was a one-time thing, okay!"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, okay. So from now on, you'll just control your vengeful-spirit part and be totally zen?"

Jo clenched her jaw, her face flushing an even deeper red. Dean smirked. Jo took a step towards him, and opened her mouth to say something when...

The door opened, and Sam stepped inside the motel room, his arms full of groceries. He stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the numerous paper bags he held.

"Dean?" he sputtered. "Jo!"

Jo and Dean looked at each other quickly before turning back towards Sam.

"Sam!" they said in unison. "Hey!"

**Please review! They're ALWAYS appreciated! :D **

**And, they're great motivators!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry this took so long, guys! Normally this would be the part where I would give you some lame-ass excuse of why I've been procrastinating...but I don't really have one other than I've been busy watching anime...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, even with all my Positive Visualization. :/**

Sam stood in silence for a while, a shocked expression on his face while he juggled four bags of groceries. Dean and Jo looked at each other, an indefinable but identical expression on both of their faces. The only thing that was giving Sam a bit of relief was that it didn't look like Jo was about to murder Dean.

Her ghostly pale face was flushed with anger and frustration, but it still didn't look like she was about to murder Dean.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and awkwardly walked over to the table and set down the four bags of groceries. As he sorted through them and put some in the small motel fridge, Sam was very conscious of Jo's and Dean's intent and guilty gaze on his back.

Sam reached the bottom of the paper grocery bags much too soon. He took a deep breath, steeling himself and turned around. And promptly exploded into laughter at Jo and Dean's guilty expressions. They were very reminiscent of a four year old that had just been caught sneaking an extra cookie before dinner.

Sam managed to stop laughing, and looked casually at Jo. "Hey, Jo," he said, walking to the bed and flopping down on it, turning his gaze towards the static-y television.

Dean cleared his throat, casting an utterly confused glance at Sam. "Uh, Sam?"

Sam sat up a bit so he could look at Dean. "What?"

Dean looked at Jo and Jo looked at Dean. "What!" They both asked, imitating Sam's tone.

"Yeah," Sam said innocently, sitting up a bit more. "Why? What's wrong with that?"

"Uh," Dean said. "Jo the friendly ghost is here and all you say is 'Hey, Jo'? That's it!"

Sam sighed. "What do you want me to do, Dean? Fall to the floor in shock? Run to the Impala, grab a shotgun and start pumping Jo full of salt?"

"Uh, hell no!" Jo interrupted.

Sam looked at Jo with raised eyebrows. His expression said, '_See? I'm right._'

It was Dean's least favorite expression of Sam's. At least his little bitch-face was somewhat amusing. This was just little-brother irritating.

Before Dean could put his angry two-cents in, though, Jo interrupted, addressing the large crowd of two people. "Well, then I guess there's no need to go through all that confusing 'I'm not evil and I'm not trying to kill Dean anymore' crap."

"Glad that was so easily resolved," Dean muttered. "Ow!" he protested as Jo hit him. Dean rubbed his shoulder resentfully as Jo sighed.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

There was an awkward silence in the room. Nobody had any clue what they should do.

Suddenly, Dean stood up, holding one finger up like he had had a brilliant idea. His face glowed with sudden inspiration; there was almost a visible light bulb over his head. "We should go trick-or-treating!" he grinned.

Jo hurled the first thing she could get her hands on at Dean's head. Unfortunately, it was just a pillow. It hit Dean's face with a _poof_ as some of the air whooshed out and flopped on the floor.

"What the hell kind of idea was that?" Jo demanded, already reaching for another pillow. Dean ducked as it sailed over his head.

"It's Halloween tomorrow!" he said eagerly, glancing towards Sam for support. Sam just took a step backwards, putting his hands up in surrender.

"So!" Jo asked. "This motel is a dump! Who cares if it's Halloween tomorrow?"

"C'mon," Dean whined. "It'll be fun! Besides, you already have a costume!" He smirked at his own cleverness. The smirk was wiped off his face as Jo's third pillow hit its target.

"Very funny," Jo muttered. "I'm not going trick-or-treating!" She raised her voice. "We're not kids, Dean! You might still have the maturity of a seven year old, but people aren't going to think you're cute when you're knocking on the door demanding candy dressed in a princess costume!"

"I don't have the maturity level of a seven year old!" Dean protested.

"You're right," Jo agreed. "More like a five year old."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Besides, I wasn't going to go as a freakin' princess! Maybe that's what you wanted to be, but I had something much cooler in mind."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Dean blushed as he looked down at the floor. "Nothing."

"No," Jo grinned. "Tell me!"

"Nope," Dean said, walking over to the fridge. "Doesn't matter now, we're not going."

"Maybe we would," Jo said.

Dean looked up eagerly before he could help himself. "Nope. You're right. It was a stupid idea. We should go kill some supernatural freak instead."

Sam broke his long-silence. "That would be your idea of a good holiday," he muttered.

**Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated. :)**


End file.
